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until his Welshmen returned with news of the outlaws' camp. |
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On the second evening after Ian's return, the Welshmen slipped back into the outpost, to be greeted by caustic questions as to whether they had lost their way. Well accustomed to hasty and intemperate masters, their spokesman replied mildly that it was a large forest and they had assumed the lord would desire to know where the back trails and secondary lairs were, as well as which foresters knew of the outlaws' presence. That the reasonable refutation did nothing to calm their master's ill temper did not surprise the Welshmen; that he did not even seem pleased at their detailed report, which should make it possible for him to take the reavers by surprise any time he wanted, left them shaking their heads in bewilderment. |
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By midmorning of the third day, the men were slinking unobtrusively out of Ian's path whenever it was possible. Since Owain and Geoffrey had held their tongues, as befitted their station, which forbade gossip with commoners, Ian's continued black mood was inexplicable and, therefore, frightening to them. Owain was neither frightened nor puzzled, but the too-sensitive pride of early manhood made him burn with resentment when an undeserved blow or bitter jibe was aimed at him. He, too, avoided his master. Geoffrey alone, who had originally been the most fearful, was quite content to linger in Ian's company. |
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This was not because Ian was any more gentle with him than with the others. Twice Geoffrey, who was less quick at dodging than Owain, had been knocked right across the hut, and as many "clumsy louts," "dull asses," and "crawling worms'' were launched at him as at anyone else. Geoffrey, however, did not mind a bit. Initially it was owing to his feeling of kinship with Ian's pain. It was true that the beautiful Lady Alinor was not cruel to Geoffrey himself; instead she was cruel to his lord. As the days wore on, however, Geoffrey's indiffer- |
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